


Naught But Meat and Want

by NaturalEvil



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Female Nero (Devil May Cry), Genderswap, Incest, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23570938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaturalEvil/pseuds/NaturalEvil
Summary: Blood never meant anything to Vergil unless it was spilled.
Relationships: Nero's Mother & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Naught But Meat and Want

The light of spring was thin and wispy, made even softer by the repetitious fall of rain. Water licked at the windows, fogging the glass with its cold breath.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Vergil listened to her breathe, slow and even, like some unfortunate fool under anesthesia who had no idea that they were about to be cut open and exenterated. When she mumbled unintelligible nothings in her sleep, he wondered if she was dreaming of him; of the fabled time before he put his hands on her.

Wide awake and staring at nothing until the edges of his vision began to smear, Vergil did not move. His dirty hands lying motionless at his side, cadaver-pale and gripping mindlessly at the wet sheets.

A part of him (small, and thus insignificant) wanted to reach over and touch her as a father _should_ touch his daughter. Chaste, pure, and loving; to fix a stray piece of her disheveled hair or pull the covers up securely around her shoulders; lest she catch a cold.

But he made no move, his hands beginning to shake as he reminisced. Memories that were better off in the dark creeping slowly forward, their hideousness splayed out for him to revisit like an old friend who knew his worst secrets.

He thought of how Nero had been completely unintentional, a mistake that her mother had refused to be rid of. Oh, how her skin did glow during her pregnancy, healthful and quite literally full of life. It still does not surprise Vergil how during the time, he had entertained fantasies of snuffing that light out as if it were nothing more than a bothersome candle.

(Cut, cut, _tear_ )

He only held Nero in his arms because her mother could not, having gone pale and cold shortly after birth. Her insides ruptured and twisted, blood pooled out from in between her marble-colored thighs, which was the only instance where he considered her to be truly beautiful. Nero had cried, shrill and loud, tears rolling down her filthy red cheeks, and Vergil did not; only telling her to hush, that it isn’t wise to try and wake the dead.

He gave Nero no warmth as a child, and his love, (if one could even call it that) had been rationed to mere allotments of affection. A dimpled smile here or an almost-soft touch there, but never anything more than that. Embraces were a far-off myth, and any of Nero’s sniveling whimpers for comfort were met with a stern silence and then severe command to not bother her father with such inane foolishness.

The very instant that he saw her as more than a nuisance, she was much older. Vergil does not know what had moved him to masturbate into her underwear, stolen from her dresser when she was fifteen years old. He dragged the soft multi-colored fabric over himself, back and forth until a guiltless teeth-gnashing orgasm clawed through his insides.

It was only after it was thrown into the hamper that he felt remorse, if only for making a mess. 

The sound of when he fucked her the very first time was purely bodily. (He had waited until she was legal, he wasn’t _that_ sort of monster) He recalled a thick wet squelch, like raw and tender meat being crushed in a fist. Vergil licked his lips at the memory. The panoply of his daughter with her legs wide open before him. Her body luscious, svelte, and quite ripe for the taking.

She had been so scared, her eyes pale and Bambi-wide, and a single growl from within his throat, raw and enraged, was more than enough to keep her still.

Vergil had fucked her and purged himself of his milky white filth, forcing into his daughter the very thing that had helped bring her into existence.

If Nero were anyone else, Vergil decided; (even her own mother) he would have grown bored with her quite a while ago.

With his lips pressed tightly together, he turned over and gently shook her awake, stirring and eager for more. 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants me, I'll be in hell. :))))))))


End file.
